Poetry Post 132

Out Of My Bed
Hide me in my bed
From these days I've come to dread
Another stone on a mountain of stress
Piling up in measures so limitless
I want to hallow it out and hide in a cave instead
If I was never to get out of my bed again
There's one less stone to be tossed in
There's one less boulder
On my shoulder
And a start of the mountain's end

Dedicated To A Dying Hero
It's so sad to see you go
You are the best friend I never could know
It is too hard to carry that weight
The weight of a death of someone so great

Wasting Time
I'm sorry I need an escape a relaxing distraction
Something to release the stress of immobile action
Always doing and never going
No accomplishment showing
Moving from mission to mission
I need an intermission
Places to go that always close too early
No reliable transportation available to me
No money to get my work to the next stages
And I have no job no reliable wages
Nothing necessary I have but time
Wasting it was a necessary crime
I have nothing constructive to do with it
So I saw no crime in wasting a bit